


Wand Making (and Other Life Skills)

by Tito11



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M, On Hiatus, Unreliable Narrator, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tito11/pseuds/Tito11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hogwarts!AU in which Tony has always been a prodigy, and he's got the wands to prove it, but that doesn't mean he can't use a lesson in life skills.</p><p> </p><p>Tony makes his first wand when he's four. The house elves are the only ones to notice. Except the Daily Prophet, of course, but they're a bunch of sharks, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I realize there’s the statute for underage magic, or whatever it’s called, but I also think that since students don’t get notices about it until the end of their first year at Hogwarts, maybe there’s some leniency there for kids who haven’t been to school yet.
> 
> Also, this chapter's mostly about Tony growing up, but there will be Steve/Tony eventually, trust me.

Tony makes his first wand when he’s four. It’s really quite an accomplishment, everyone tells him over and over, especially considering that most adult wizards don’t even know how to make a wand. But, well, Tony spent the majority of his childhood in his father’s broom-making factory, and it all must have rubbed off on him, somehow. The wand is yew and phoenix feather, and child sized, to fit his small hands, though the magic he performs with it is adult-strength. The phoenix in question belongs to his father and has a very bad temper. The fight he has to have with the thing to get the feather gives him scars that stay with him for years. The wand itself is a thing of beauty and is photographed extensively by the Daily Prophet. It’s also shattered to pieces within the year, after a particularly violent explosion during one of Tony’s experiments. Tony himself suffers only minor injuries but the wand is a complete loss.

Tony’s next wand is made from Pock Ironwood his father imported from South Africa, because Tony’s heard that Ironwood is the toughest wood out there. With the experiments Tony’s performing, tough is really the way to go. Howard doesn’t say anything about the second wand, just like he didn’t say anything about the first. Tony tries and tries to show him the cool things it can do, but Howard’s never really paying attention, even when they’re in the same room. Tony hasn’t realized yet that it’s futile, but he’ll learn soon enough.

 

House elves raise Tony. To be fair, most of the old pureblood families still do it that way, and Howard’s nothing if not a pureblood. Maria’s blood’s a little murkier, but the very fact that Howard married her proves that the magic in her lineage goes back centuries. Of course, her status as an heiress certainly helped things along.

For the most part, Tony doesn’t mind his elf-nannies. Ivy and Freck are the ones that keep an eye on him, usually. They’re the ones that wake him up in the morning and tuck him in at night. Some nights, Tony lies awake after they leave, listening to the parties going on downstairs and wishing his mother would come to tuck him in, too. She never does, but sometimes Tony thinks he can smell her perfume in his room when he gets up in the morning. He likes to think of it, her sneaking in after all the guests have gone, stroking his hair and telling him she loves him. He just wishes she would do it when he's awake, too.

Still, house elves aren’t bad. They feed him and play with him, and bring him presents, sometimes. They make oohing noises when he first shows them his wand, and pat his head consoling when his parents don’t do the same. Tony sometimes wishes he had some human playmates, too, but still, house elves aren’t bad.

 

By the time Tony is eleven, he’s gone through six wands. Some of them, like the very first, had been destroyed in legitimate accidents. Other times, Tony just knew he could do better and wanted an upgrade. His latest one, rosewood and unicorn hair, is probably the most boss wand he’s ever made. Rosewood sounds kinda girly, but Tony’d read good things about it during the research stage of production. The unicorn hair he’d had to buy. Not that he hadn’t tried to catch a unicorn himself, but those suckers are much faster than he’d given them credit for. His mother had been pretty upset when she’d found out about his little adventure, since she’s in some kind of unicorn preservation activist group, but it hadn’t been like Tony was going to kill it! All he wanted was a few hairs. Maria’s also been making threatening noises about going to Olivander’s, but like heck is Tony going to use someone else’s wand at school after all the work he put into this one.

When his letter arrives, no one’s even the least bit surprised. Tony’s been very obviously magical since birth, more clearly so than most children, in fact. He’s been performing conscious magic since he was at least four. There would have to be a very serious reason for Hogwarts not to accept him at this point, and even though Tony does have something of a disciplinary record from the prep school they sent him to, he’s never been in trouble with the Ministry

The owl that brings the letter is a big, brown barn owl and it barges in right in the middle of breakfast. Howard’s hawk owl turns up his nose at the very sight of the thing, and the barn owl apparently takes offense, because there’s a bit of a tussle after that. Tony laughs at the sight, because come on! Owls fighting! But then his mother gives him a look and he busies himself with the porridge the elves have set out. She can’t stop him from thinking it’s awesome, though, so he does that for a while and watches out of the corner of his eye until Howard finally looks up from the stock prices scrolling along the top of the paper long enough to put an end to it.

Tony’s disappointed enough about the end of the owl fight (he was totally rooting for the barn owl) that he barely notices when Howard deposits the letter the owl was carrying next to Tony. He figures it’s probably from the _Daily Prophet_ , asking for another interview, or maybe _Transfiguration Today_ , wanting to know when the latest in his string of published papers would be ready to go. Tony doesn’t have friends, exactly, but it could also be from a number of academics with whom he’s been corresponding about his experiments in charm work.

Of course, then he notices the seal, and despite all the planning he’d done to be cool and aloof, he gets a nervous little clench in his stomach. Still, he takes his time opening it, just to prove he can.

“It’s from Hogwarts,” he explains, when his mother looks at him inquiringly. He finally gets the letter open and begins to skim. It’s pretty much what he expected: list of things to bring, list of things not to bring, congratulations on being accepted.

“I don’t know,” Tony says after he finishes reading, just to see what will happen. “I don’t think I want to go to Hogwarts. I was thinking of going to Eton, instead. I hear they have good football there.”

That certainly gets his father’s attention. “Anthony,” he says, putting down the paper. “Your schooling is nothing to joke about. I won’t hear any more about this Muggle nonsense. You’re going to Hogwarts and that’s final.” He picks his paper back up, eyes returning to the stocks, but not before adding, “and of course, you should know I’ll accept nothing less than Ravenclaw. ‘Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.’”

Tony pretends to vomit into his porridge, but his mother sees and he figures he’d better scram before any actual arguing can happen. He grabs his letter off the table before he leaves, though. All jokes aside, he really does want to go to Hogwarts. Mostly because he’s heard all about the mischief he can make there, but a little bit to learn, too.

When he gets to his room, Ivy’s already there, tidying up his bed. “I’m planning a trip to Diagon Alley for this afternoon, Ivy,” he tells her. His parents don’t like when he goes out alone, but they can’t be bothered to take him themselves, either. Taking an elf with him is a compromise eleven years in the making.

“Of course, sir,” she squeaks, then adds in an undertone, “And I’m sure we can manage a visit to Eton while we’re out.”

Tony laughs and goes to find his football.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts!AU in which Tony has always been a prodigy, and he's got the wands to prove it, but that doesn't mean he can't use a lesson in life skills.
> 
>  
> 
> Tony doesn't know any of these weirdos, but there's something about the first train ride to Hogwarts that really brings a group together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seriously got a lot of faith in Tony's magical abilities at such a young age, but i'm guided by two things: first, look at Tony's seriously incredibly abilities as a child in cannon. Second, if Tom Riddle could make all that stuff happen using magic without even knowing he was a wizard, just imagine the potential for someone that brilliant who grew up knowing his own power. Not that i think Tony's gonna be the next Tom Riddle or anything, just saying.

Howard and Maria both come to see Tony off at the train station. So does a photographer from the Daily Prophet, but honestly, Tony’s so used to that by now that he barely notices. His parents really play it up for the crowds though, his mother hugging him and crying a very little bit, and Howard crouching down to look Tony in the eyes as he threatens him.

“Anthony,” he says, very seriously. “Remember what I told you: get yourself sorted into Ravenclaw. Even a trouble-maker like you should be able to manage it. I expect a letter as soon as sorting is over telling me you’ve been sorted into the right house. Don’t disappoint me.”

With that and an awkward pat on the shoulder, Howard straightens up. “Come, Maria,” he says, leading his wife away. “I’ve got a meeting to attend.”

“Have a good year, Anthony,” Maria calls over her shoulder, already walking away. Then they’re gone, leaving Tony alone with his trunk and his owl. The owl is a new acquisition. He picked it out on his last trip to Diagon Alley with Ivy, when they’d gotten all his school things. He picked a medium sized screech owl, mostly because he knew it would annoy Howard that he wasn’t getting a hawk owl. He named it Jarvis. Tony’s never had a pet before, but he thinks the way the owl bit his ear when they’d first met meant the start of a fantastic friendship.

Jarvis hoots in his cage, probably at one of the other owls, but the noise brings Tony back to himself and he stops staring at the spot where his parents disappeared. If he didn’t know how to levitate, he’d probably have serious problems getting his trunk onto the train. Luckily, Tony’s something of a genius. He’s been levitating for years: potted plants, furniture, incredibly priceless vases, house elves, you name it and Tony’s levitated it. This trunk isn’t going to be much of a problem.

No, the real problem is finding the right compartment. Tony doesn’t know anyone here and most of the kids are older than him. He doesn’t have a problem with social situations, not with the life he’s had, but he doesn’t really feel up to it today, not with everything else going on. He doesn’t especially want an empty compartment, though, either. There’s too great a risk of being known as “that boy who sat by himself the first ride to Hogwarts.” No, the best solution would be to find a compartment that only has a few kids in it, preferably first or second years, third years at worst.

Luck’s with him, because the third compartment Tony passes has only one boy in it. He’s mousy and his clothes aren’t great, but he’ll do. The kid barely looks up from his book when Tony barges in without asking, which Tony would approve of, except that the kid clearly does it more out of shyness than any desire to seem aloof. They’ll have to work on that.

“Hey,” Tony says, once he’s gotten everything settled. He holds out a hand. “Tony Stark.”

The kid chokes a little at that, peering over the top of his book again. “T-tony Stark?” he asks. Tony nods, because, yeah, they’ve covered this. “Wow,” the kid says, mostly to himself. Then he seems to realize Tony’s still holding out his hand to shake, because he takes it quickly. His hands are a bit clammy, but Tony generously overlooks it.

“I’ve read your work on switching spells,” the boy says, breathily. “It was brilliant.”

It was, it’s true, but Tony still preens to hear it. Validation from his peers certainly isn’t necessary, but it’s still nice to hear. And if this boy’s been reading Tony’s work and understanding it, he’s definitely someone Tony needs to keep around.

“Thanks,” he says, cooly, because if there’s one thing he’s learned from Howard it’s never to show how much something means to you. “You still haven’t told me your name, though. I could just call you “Mousy” I guess, I mean, it’s true, but you probably wouldn’t answer to it.”

“Bruce,” the boy says, flushing, though whether because he forgot to introduce himself or because Tony called him mousy, Tony doesn’t know. “Bruce Banner.”

“Good name,” Tony says. “Nice alliteration. Banner’s not an old name, though. You’re a half-blood?” Tony can usually tell. It’s a gift, or something.

Bruce nods, shyly. “My mother’s a witch,” he explains. “My father was pretty angry when he found out. He doesn’t like magic.” 

The statement’s more telling than he probably wants it to be, and it explains a lot about Bruce’s demeanor. It reminds Tony how lucky he is to have Howard and Maria. They’re not World’s Best Parents material, sure, but at least they never hit him or tried to suppress his magic.

“So tell me,” Tony says, taking a seat next to Bruce. “What are your thoughts on switching spells?”

Bruce lights up at that, and they’re just getting a good, scientific conversation going when they’re interrupted by a knock on the door. Tony looks up to see two kids loitering in the doorway. One of them is a short, stocky blonde boy, and one’s a very pretty redhead.

“Hello,” he says, mostly to the redhead. “There’s plenty of room in this compartment if you’re looking. We always have space for incredibly attractive witches and wizards. Come on in, have a seat.”

The girl turns to look at him, and the way she eyes him up makes Tony a bit uncomfortable. She reminds Tony of a snake, or maybe a spider, about to bite. It makes him rethink his invitation, but it’s too late, now, since both of them are already hauling their trunks into the compartment and up into the luggage rack.

When they’re finished, they both sprawl casually in the seats across the aisle. “I’m Natasha,” the girl says, deliberately making eye contact. Tony doesn’t squirm in his seat, but it’s a near thing. “And this is Clint.” She motions to the boy.

“I’m Tony,” Tony replies, before Bruce can get too flustered about having to talk again in front of strangers. “And this is my buddy Bruce. We were just talking about switching spells. Any thoughts?”

It’s a challenge as much as anything, and Tony’s not sure why he says it at all, except that the girl’s eyes are still boring into him and he doesn’t like it.

“Well, you are Tony Stark, aren’t you?” Natasha asks in a way that makes it clear she knows he definitely is. “You just wrote that article on switching spells. You can tell us all about them.”

“That’s Tony Stark?” Clint asks in mock surprise. They must have peeked in the window at him and had a conversation about it before coming in, or something. “Wow, I just thought he’d be taller.”

It’s a burn. Tony’s always been small for his age. He’s not unaware of it or anything, but he’s not about to take that from a hobbit like Clint.

“I’m not about to take that from a hobbit like you,” he tells him. He’s met with blank stares from both Clint and Natasha, though Bruce at least seems to get the joke. “Haven’t you guys ever heard of Lord of the Rings? That is a tragedy, an absolute tragedy. Let me explain it to you.”

Tony only gets halfway through a dramatic recap of the fine piece of Muggle literature that is the Lord of the Rings before they’re interrupted yet again. Tony’s beginning to think he’s not going to get to finish any of his conversations today. This time, the interruption comes from a tall blonde boy, knocking loudly on the door.

“Are there seats available in this compartment?” he asks, and it’s his accent that tips Tony off.

“Hey,” he says, standing up to greet the kid, holding out his hand. “Thor Odinson, right? Tony Stark. I think we’ve met before. Our dads run in the same circle.”

“We have indeed met before,” Thor says with a grin, bypassing Tony’s hand and pulling him into a rib-crushing hug. “It is most good to see you again, my friend.”

Thor lets him go and Tony backs up a few paces to discreetly check he hasn’t broken any bones. “Come on in, buddy,” he says, when he’s sure he’s in one piece. “We’ve got plenty of seats.”

Tony sits back down and introduces the rest of his new friends. It’s weird how he’s sort of the ring leader of this group already. He’d expected groupies, but not this many so soon. Then he catches Natasha’s deadly stare again and thinks maybe groupies isn’t the best word for what these are freaks are to him.

The five of them spend the rest of the trip talking. Thor takes up a good deal of time regaling them with his adventures on his father's massive estate in Sweeden, along with a group he mysteriously refers only to as “the Warriors Three.” They’re interesting stories, though Tony makes sure to get his digs in now and again, just to keep Thor on his toes. Eventually, though, Tony gets so engrossed in them that they’re very nearly at Hogwarts before he realizes he’s got to pee.

He excuses himself, making it very clear where he’s going and why, just to see Natasha’s nose wrinkle delicately and hear Clint’s snarky one-liner. Tony goes to take care of business, and afterwards, he’s almost back at their compartment when he stumbles upon a duel. Or well, half a duel, anyway. Two big, stupid-looking kids, probably fourth years, have got a tiny little first year backed up into a corner. They’ve got their wands on him, but he’s got his fists up. Tony can tell right away how this is going to end.

Casually, Tony leans against the wall, wand out but not raised. The trick is to look casual. Threatening sure, but casual. Like you’re not even going to break a sweat kicking their asses. “Hey, meatheads,” he says, and almost laughs when the fourth years actually look up, like they’re used to getting called that. “I think I saw a chocolate frog back there, hopping around on the floor. I bet if you hurry, you can catch it before anyone else does.”

Okay, so it’s not his best insult, but this is extremely short notice. Whatever. Anyway, it gets the desired result. They forget about the tiny, tiny boy and turn their wands on Tony. Tony just smirks and raises his own wand. There are two of them and one of him, and they’re older, but Tony knows what he’s doing. He’s never been in a duel, exactly, but stunned enough unwary squirrels and bunny rabbits to know what he’s doing. He’d revived them after, of course; he’s not a monster. He just needed the practice.

As the two boys advance on him, Tony laughs a little bit, to himself. This is going to be brilliant. Nothing like a duel to mark the occasion of his first ever train ride to Hogwarts. He feels like he should warn them, though. Tony’s not exactly what he seems.

“This is warning, boys,” he says. “You can walk away now and I won’t stop you. But you should know that this won’t end well for you if you don’t. My name is Tony Stark, and I am a genius.”

That certainly catches their attention, and they turn to each other to share an incredulous look. Tony stuns them in quick succession, while they’re still laughing at him. They both topple over like cut trees and Tony does a little fist bump. It’s nice to know his stunning skills extend past garden animals. He also takes a little bow, just because.

Then he remembers the tiny boy and goes to see if he’s okay. He offers his hand up, and the boy takes it, though he doesn’t look happy.

“You’d think that for just getting saved by my awesomeness, you’d look a little more grateful,” Tony tells him.

“I had them,” the boy answers, completely serious. No joke or anything, but completely, honestly, serious.

Tony laughs. “You weren’t even holding a wand!” he points out. “Did you leave it at home or something?”

The boy blushes. “I don’t know any spells yet,” he admits. 

That’s probably reasonable, Tony guesses. Howard and Maria weren’t particularly strict, or even especially interested, about Tony’s magical abilities. He just did what he wanted and that included learning as many spells as he could on his own, with just his books to guide him. It helped that he had a wand from such an early age. But most kids don’t get a wand until right before they go to school, so it’s not unreasonable for them not to know any magic before their first year. Tony doubts any of the kids back in his compartment do, even Bruce, who's so interested in the theory.

“Huh,” he says, then, “You’re Muggle-born, aren’t you?” Tony generally has a good sense about these things, and the way the kid had been using his fists had been pretty telling.

The kid nods. “Yeah, I am. Steve Rogers.” He holds out his tiny hand and Tony takes it, thinking about how nice it is having someone so much smaller than him around, if only to make Tony seem taller by comparison.

“Tony Stark,” Tony says. Of course, to a Muggle-born the name probably won’t mean anything, but Tony finds he doesn’t mind all that much. This way, he can make his own first impressions. He draws the kid close and puts an arm around him, guiding him without asking back down the hallway. “Come on,” he says, “I’ve got some people for you to meet.”

Tony takes him back to the compartment where everyone’s still sitting around, doing nothing. None of them seem to have gotten into a duel while he was gone, so Tony impresses them with a recounting of his, while Steve gets passed from one person to another, all of them suitably impressed by how small he is. Natasha even makes a suspicious cooing sound, which Tony so has to remember to hold over her at a later date. They’re also all suitably impressed by Tony’s duel, once Steve confirms that it actually did happen. Tony thinks his own merit should have been enough to convince them, but then he remembers about all the lies he’s told over the years and rethinks that.

Then, of course, just when they’re all getting settled in for a really good conversation about Tony’s genius, the conductor comes over the speaker and says they’ll be arriving at Hogwarts in ten minutes. And that’s when the nerves Tony’s been suppressing since he got his letter come back in full-swing.

Well, he thinks, clutching nervously at his wand, Hogwarts, at least, won’t know what hit it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts!AU in which Tony has always been a prodigy, and he's got the wands to prove it, but that doesn't mean he can't use a lesson in life skills.
> 
>  
> 
> Tony goes along with this whole sorting thing, but only so he can watch the explosions happen around him. But on the other hand, there's Natasha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy these chapters are slow going. also, tony's kind of a freak, here, but forgive him, his brain is still devloping

The castle’s impressive, Tony’ll give it that. He also suspects it’s dark, drafty and has terrible heating. There are some things even magic can’t accomplish, and sound structural engineering is one of them. The boat ride’s pretty okay, too, even though none of the lame-os in his boat let him jump into the water. He’s heard there’s a giant squid down there, and that Tony definitely wants to see. Even Eton doesn’t have a giant squid. When Tony writes home to tell Howard about the sorting, he’s definitely going to embellish a bit concerning his adventure on the lake. Maybe he’ll say he fell in and had to be sorted while soaking wet. Maybe he even caught a fish with his bare hands while he was in the water! The very thought of being that awesome puts a brand-spanking new light on this whole Hogwarts adventure.

Once they actually get into the castle, all of them unfortunately completely dry, they have to go wait in a side room for like a freaking hour while the professors do whatever it is they have to do to set up the sorting. Tony’s not sure exactly what the sorting involves, but Howard seemed to think it was something Tony would have some say in. When Tony asks all of his new friends, none of them seem to know anything about it, either. That seems pretty fishy, to Tony. Even Clint doesn’t know, and he’s got a brother that already goes here. He says they don’t talk much, but that’s no excuse. Actually, Tony’s not sure how he’s never wondered about this before. He’s had contact with some of the brightest wizarding minds of the century, but somehow he never even thought to ask any of them about it. They probably wouldn’t have talked, anyway. Tony’s getting the impression that this is some kind of big secret the wizarding community is keeping just for funsies. Tony’s best guess about it is that it’s probably some sort of aptitude test, and you get placed depending on your score.

He’s not entirely wrong. He’s not right, by any means, but the important thing is, he’s not wrong. The whole idea of putting on a hat to get sorted is pretty awesome, though. A sorting hat! What kind of whack job came up with this crap? Whoever it is, Tony wants to thank them. He was just thinking the other day that what his life really needed was more crazy, and now Hogwarts is providing. He’s definitely sure, now. Forget Eton, Tony’s staying here.

The only downside about the whole thing is that they’ve got to stand in alphabetical order, so Natasha’s right in front of him. Steve’s ahead of her, though, which is great. If only Natasha would switch him places, things would be even better.

“Come on,” he whines. “No one’ll notice.”

“They’ll notice,” she assures him. “Just because we switch places in line, doesn’t mean our names are switched on the paper. What do you think will happen when you get to the front and they read off my name instead? Will you just go up and get sorted for me?”

Tony hadn’t thought of that. Actually, that might be fun. “Yeah, okay,” he tells her. “That’ll work. We can just pretend we’re each other for a while. They won’t even know the difference, probably.” He tries to cut her in line, but is held off by a sharp elbow to his ribs. He doubles over dramatically, but she doesn’t even seem to care.

“I’m not letting you make fools of us just so you can stand next to your little boyfriend, Tony, so quit trying.”

“He’s not my little anything,” Tony protests, but then Natasha’s shushing him. Apparently, the sorting’s started.

Bruce is one of the first ones to be sorted, and he goes to Ravenclaw. Clint’s up right after that, and he gets put in Hufflepuff. From what little Tony knows about them, it seems like a good fit for both. Tony gets bored after that and zones out for a while. By the time he tunes back in, Thor’s being sorted. He goes to Gryffindor, which also seems fitting. There’s only one person between Thor and Steve, some girl named Virginia, who goes to Hufflepuff. Then it’s Steve’s turn. He’s put in Gryfindor, no surprise there. Natasha’s after him, and she gets sorted into Slytherin. Also very appropriate, considering Tony’s pretty sure she’s part snake. She bit him, too, he thinks and absently scratches his arm where it looks like there might be fang marks.

Then finally, finally, it’s Tony’s turn. He saunters up to the hat, enjoying the whispers as people realize that, yes, he’s _that_ Tony Stark. Every house wants him, Tony’s positive. They think it’ll be great, that he’ll help them win the house cup, or whatever. Clearly, they don’t know him.

The hat’s a bit too big whenever Tony slips it on. It completely covers his eyes, but that’s fine. He doesn’t need them for this.

 _Hmm,_ the hat says, in its rheedy voice. _You’re a clever one, aren’t you? Courageous, too, more than you know._

Tony doubts that, but who is he to question a talking hat.

 _Your ambition, though,_ the hat continues. _That’s what intrigues me the most. But are you sure that’s what you want? The path you’re on may not lead to what you seek._

Tony doesn’t know what the hat’s even talking about, let alone whether or not he wants it. What he is sure of, though, since they’re on the subject, is that he wants to be great. Fuck Howard. Fuck everyone who ever thought he wasn’t good enough. He’ll show them. He’ll be better than any of them. And if ambition will help him do it, well, they’ve got a house just for that, apparently. He closes his eyes shut hard and thinks viciously, _Slytherin_.

 _If you’re sure,_ the hat says, and its brim twitches in what Tony thinks might be the hat equivalent of a shrug. _Better be_ “Slytherin.”

Okay, Tony thinks, good. Take that Howard. He pulls the hat off and sets it back on the stool, then goes to find a seat next to Natasha. He thinks, a little belatedly, that he didn’t really think this one through. Does he really want to be stuck with _Natasha_ as his bestie for the next seven years? Well, too late now.

The feast, once they get down to it, is pretty decent. Tony hasn’t had better, exactly, but he’s certainly had just as good. His house-elves at home are boss. Tony kind of misses them. He’d write them letters, but, thinking about it, he’s pretty sure elves can’t read. Well, huh. He’ll think of something.

After the feast they’re all supposed to go to their dormitories, but Tony makes sure to catch up with all his new friends first and extract promises to meet up tomorrow after classes. They’re all freaks, sure, but they’re also the only friends he has in this place, and after an entire childhood by himself, he’s not about to give that up so soon. Then he and Natasha follow their prefect, Eric Lensherr, Tony thinks his name is, down into the dungeons. He actually feels a bit sorry when he and Natasha have to part ways to go down separate corridors inside the common room. She’s not so bad, he guesses. Their conversation during dinner had been almost deep. Terrifying, sure, but deep.

Their trunks have already been brought down, which makes Tony pretty nervous, considering the delicate, dangerous and probably illegal things he has in his. He digs for a quill, ink and some parchment, while he’s in there checking nothing’s broken. Then, alone at last on his four-poster bed, he sits down to write his letter to Howard. This whole sorting thing is going to make his head explode, Tony bets. Maybe he’ll be so mad he’ll come in person to give Tony a piece of his mind. Maybe he’ll even leave work in the middle of the day to do it. Tony grins at the thought. When he’s done, he sends it out with Jarvis and lies back, reveling in all the explosions this is going to cause.

He’s not disappointed, either. Jarvis arrives back the next day during breakfast, when the whole school is in the great hall. Tony sees the red envelope before the owl has even landed and he starts to get that excited bubbling in his stomach that means things are going to blow up. The howler really does blow up, literally, even. Howard’s voice booms through the hall, and everyone is staring. He catches Steve’s eye over at the Gryffindor table, and gets a sympathetic smile, but Steve doesn’t understand. Tony, he basks in the attention. It’s a pretty good start to the year, he thinks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts!AU in which Tony has always been a prodigy, and he's got the wands to prove it, but that doesn't mean he can't use a lesson in life skills.
> 
>  
> 
> Tony goes to class, makes his mark and spends some quality time with Steve, whom he can't seem to stop smiling at for some reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess it's time for a classic Marvel cameo. sorry :)

Tony’s first class of the day, he finds out after the noise from his howler dies down, is History of Magic. He stares in horror at the schedule Professor Hill, Slytherin head of house, hands out. All Slytherin first years apparently have the same schedule, which includes History of Magic first thing. It must be a hazing stunt, Tony figures, because no one in their right mind would schedule a class that boring first thing in the morning. He tries to steal Natasha’s schedule to double-check, but she evades and he accidently gets marmalade all down his arm.

“Look what you did,” he tells her, but she gives him a narrow-eyed look, the one he learned last night at dinner means she’s going to pinch him somewhere soft and tender, so he lets it go and accepts his schedule as legitimate. He also scoots away a bit on the bench, just in case. Then he surveys the mess on his sleeve and wishes he knew a cleaning spell. He’s never had to learn one before, but now would probably be a good time to. In fact, he could do that now, instead of wasting his time learning about the history of magic. He’s never had a history class before (because why, no seriously, why would he need that?) but it sounds uber boring.

Still, he should probably go. It is the first day, after all. Not that Tony cares about things like that, exactly, but he does believe in luring professors into a false sense of security before he starts causing mischief. Or well, he’ll try to lure them into a false sense of security. He can’t make any promises, because while he definitely enjoys a good bit of chaos, he’s not always the cause. Sometimes, trouble just finds him. Tony can’t even count the number of times he’d been minding his own business and suddenly found himself in the middle of a blast radius with no idea of how it happened or what caused it. Of course, other times, most times even, it’s him, it’s totally him and he loves it.

“What are you so happy about?” Natasha asks suspiciously.

“History of Magic,” he says and directs his smile right at her, charmingly, he thinks. “Can’t wait. Super excited. Let’s go now.” He stands and grabs his bag. 

Natasha gives him a new look, one that clearly means “I’m watching you and if I don’t like what I see, you’ll be sorry.” Tony notes it in his mental catalogue of her facial expressions, and makes a hand motion to hurry her along. She sighs, but stands, too, and they head off together to find the right classroom.

The castle’s actually easier to navigate than Tony’d anticipated, what with Tony’s sense of direction and Natasha’s attention to detail. It means they get to the class a little early, but that’s fine, it gives Tony time to find a great seat right in the center of the room. The back’s too obvious but he sure doesn’t want to sit in the front. The rest of their classmates start pouring in and then, once they’re all settled, the professor enters the room. Through the blackboard.

There’s a collective gasp and everyone jerks back in their seats, because, what the heck? What kind of a ghost spends the afterlife teaching? If there’s any fate worse than death, Tony’s sure it’s being dead and still teaching.

Unfortunately, that’s the most interesting thing that happens all class. As soon as the ghost, Professor Lee, introduces himself, he starts droning immediately about things goblins did thousands of years ago. Tony was right in the first place: history is boring. He zones out pretty quickly and starts planning the newest modifications to his wand. His lab at home is pretty great, perfect for experimenting, but with all the rooms in this place, there’s bound to be somewhere he can do his work without too much hassle.

After class is over, Tony starts packing away his schematics quickly, eager to get out of there. Natasha sidles up to him. “You were the only one in the classroom taking notes, you know,” she says, casually. “Nearly everyone else was asleep. I was watching.”

“Creepy,” Tony tells her. “And it’s not what you think. I’m working on upgrading my wand.” He finishes packing up and they start toward the door. 

“Hmm,” she says, tapping her lips thoughtfully. “Maybe you could upgrade your personality while you’re at it.”

“Ooh, burn,” Tony laughs. He loves this girl, he really does.

 

After History of Magic, they have Potions with Professor Pym. Tony doesn’t realize until they get down to the dungeons where the lessons take place that they’ll also be with the Gryffindor first years. He stands on his tiptoes while they’re lining up in front of the door, trying to see through all the tall kids to find tiny Steve. He finally finds him and they make eye contact. He waves, excitedly, but before he can go over and talk to him, Pym opens the door and ushers them all inside. Tony loiters outside, hoping to walk in with Steve so they can sit together, but his plan backfires when all the good seats get taken before he even gets inside and he has to sit next to some loser he doesn’t know.

For about half an hour, they take some basic notes, then they actually get to make a potion. They’re supposed to brewing a cure for boils. It’s a simple potion, though not one’s Tony’s done before, while he was just messing around at home. His area of expertise extends mostly toward things that blow up.

Halfway through brewing, though, Tony gets bored and decides to make a few substitutions in ingredients, just to see what happens. True to form, it explodes, pretty spectacularly, if Tony does say so himself. And no one even gets hurt, though his cauldron is a complete loss, which makes it totally unfair that Professor Pym gives him a sad, disappointed look afterward. He can totally tell Tony did it on purpose, too, because Tony can’t quite suppress his smile of glee.

“Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Stark,” Pym says with a sigh. “And make sure you get this mess cleaned up.”

The rest of the Slytherins glare at him, but Tony just shrugs and goes to find a mop, making a note to learn that cleaning spell sooner rather than later. What does he care if his house gets points taken away? The only prize, as far as he can tell, is bragging rights and getting your house colors on the wall at the End of Year Feast. Tony doesn’t need either one of those things. He already knows he’s the most awesome first year in the place, and he’s gonna brag about it any time he wants, thank you. And if he really wanted to see his colors on the wall, he could go buy a poster or something and hang it in the dormitory, where he could see it every day. He won’t though, because house spirit is lame and Tony is not.

By the time he gets everything cleaned up, the class is over and everyone’s packing away their ingredients. He manages to wrangle Natasha and Steve into walking together with him up to the great hall for lunch. On the way, Natasha makes fun of him for messing up his potion, which he totally did on purpose, duh, and Steve laughs a little at her jokes. Tony likes the sound of his laugh, though he couldn’t say why, enough that he overlooks the fact that they’re both making fun of him.

The trouble comes once they get to the great hall. Because, of course, Tony’d forgotten they have to sit at their own house tables. Natasha stops at the Slytherin table and sets her bag down at a seat there, but Steve just waves and keeps walking toward the Gryffindor table at the other end of the hall. Tony stays standing, torn. He wants to sit with all of his friends, and why shouldn’t he? Screw this segregation crap.

“Come on,” he says to Natasha and follows after Steve.

“Tony,” she hisses, but grabs her bag and runs after him. “The Slytherin table is back there. What are you doing?”

“Starting a trend,” Tony tells her, and keeps walking. When they get to the Gryffindor table, Steve looks shocked to see them. Apparently he hadn’t realized they were following him. He makes room, though, and Tony sits down beside him. Natasha, after only a tiny, almost imperceptible pause, sits, too. All the Gryffindors are staring at them, obviously confused, but Tony likes when people stare and Natasha is an absolute beauty under pressure. Then Thor sits down across from them and redirects everyone’s attention.

“Hello, my friends,” he says, happily, and doesn’t even comment on the odd seating arrangement. “I saw your explosion in Potions, Anthony. It was very well done.”

“Thanks,” Tony says, glad for the credit. “But, dude, call me Tony, okay?”

“Of course,” Thor agrees, and Tony really likes this guy, more than he thought he would back when they were just two brats at society parties.

“How do they move like that?” Steve asks from beside him, and Tony’s totally thrown by the non sequiter before he looks and sees that Steve’s holding an abandoned copy of the Prophet and marveling at the pictures.

“Magic,” Tony says, shrugging. He’s sure there’s a more detailed explanation, but he doesn’t know it right at this moment, and hey, it’s not like it’s untrue. “Could you check the quidditch scores for me, though?”

“The what scores?” Steve asks, and he looks so adorably confused by Tony’s question that it’s all Tony can do not to pinch his cheeks or something. Seriously, this kid is just too cute for his own good.

“Qudditch,” Tony tells him. “It’s the wizarding sport. It’s a bit like football, but on brooms.”

“Brooms,” Steve repeats, skeptically. “Like push brooms?”

“More like riding brooms,” Tony says. When Steve just looks even more confused, Tony sighs. “Listen,” he tells him, “I’ll take you out after supper to see the pitch. I’ve heard there’s a great one here and I wanna get a look at it anyway. First years can’t play, but next year, baby, I am so all about that.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees. “I’d like that.”

“Great,” Tony says, and makes grabby hands for the paper. “It’s a date.”

Steve blushes at that, for some reason, but hands over the paper. Tony flips through to the sports section, hopeful. The Harpies lost again, though, and he scowls. They’ve been having a rough patch for which there is absolutely no excuse. Absently, he turns a few more pages, glancing at the headlines.

“Wait,” Natasha says, and grabs the paper, forcing him to flip back a page. “Isn’t that you?” The way she says is makes Tony sure she knows it is him and is just making him admit it to embarrass him. Well, good luck with that.

“Huh,” he says, casually. “Guess it is. Look’s like I’m so popular even the Prophet’s getting in on the action.” He skims the article. It’s pretty standard, cataloging his achievements, flaunting his genius. There’s the picture of him on Platform 9 ¾ yesterday, with Tony and Maria hugging awkwardly while Howard flashes a winning smile at the camera, though Tony’s pleased to see that his picture-self makes gagging motions every once in a while. There’s another picture, too, at the bottom of the article, featuring Tony at four, showing off his first wand.

“Wow,” Steve says, looking over his shoulder. “You really made that wand?”

“Yeah, that was the Mark I. The one I’ve got now is the Mark VI. It’s way better.”

They talk for a while about Tony’s wand, and Tony preens when Steve says it’s a real work of art. They get so caught up in conversation that Tony almost doesn’t realize what’s going on when Natasha elbows him and says, “We’re going to be late for Charms.”

Tony glances around and notices that, sure enough, the hall is almost empty. Apart from the four of them, it’s just a few stragglers at the Hufflepuff table and a single Ravenclaw. “Huh,” he says, and “Well, that sucks.”

It does, too. Tony enjoys doing charms, thinks he’ll probably like the class, but he’s enjoying himself now, being able to talk about his wands without having to give interview answers. Not that Tony’s interview answers ever really match up with what other people (read: Howard) consider proper interview answers, but still.

“Right,” he says and stands up reluctantly. “I’ll see you guys at supper then. Maybe we can even get Clint and Bruce over here, see if we can start some kind of inter-house scandal.”

“I’ll make sure they’re here,” Steve tells him, and Tony believes it, because for all that he’s adorably tiny, he sounds so sure and determined.

“And after, quidditch,” Tony reminds him.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, and his smile is so bright that Tony remembers it all afternoon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts!AU in which Tony has always been a prodigy, and he's got the wands to prove it, but that doesn't mean he can't use a lesson in life skills.
> 
>  
> 
> Tony goes to class, but mostly only to make trouble. Of course, he makes a few observations, too. Other things he accomplishes include: extracting promises, causing chain reactions, and making a certain tiny blonde smile bashfully.

Charms is with Professor Hill, who is a total babe in Tony’s opinion, but he’s careful not to say that in front of Natasha, in case she gets ideas about pinching him again. He’s also careful not to think it too hard while Hill’s making eye contact with him, because he’s done some reading about Legilimency, which is freaky and a total invasion of privacy, but also kinda way cool. Professor Hill, for all that she’s a hottie, looks exactly like the type of scary bitch that would know that kind of thing and use it to terrorize poor innocent students who just want to admire her from afar. 

Or from not so afar, in Tony’s case, because by the time he and Natasha make it to the classroom, all the seats are full except two in the very front. Natasha glares at him, unhappily, but Tony just shrugs. What can he really do, at this point, unless she wants him to cause some kind of scene to get people to vacate their seats. He’s all for that, but he has an idea that she might be even more angry if he does anything too embarrassing. Natasha, he’s observed, likes to be noticed, but she wants it on her own terms and not because she’s got embarrassing friends.

Despite their crappy seats, though, Charms is pretty fun. It’s only the first day, so, once again, they start out with some notes. One of the things Tony hadn’t anticipated about school, but probably should have, because he’s known all along that this wouldn’t be mostly alone time with tutors like prep school had been, is that everyone being way behind him in terms of education level means he’s going to have to put up with it while they all learn things he’s known for years. And sure, some of it’s new to him, too, but Tony’s never met a lesson he couldn’t ace. Mostly, it just means he’s got lots of time to work on his side projects. And also cause mischief, because that’s what he’s lives for, most days.

About halfway through the class, Hill passes out feathers. Now, Tony can think of lots of things feathers are good for, like arts and crafts or maybe tarring and feathering a criminal or something. Okay, maybe he can’t think of lots of things feathers are good for, but that’s not the point, anyway. The point is, one things feathers are not good for is levitating. They’re too wispy, too easily caught in the breeze and floated away from the pull of the magic. Sure, they won’t hurt someone if they fall, but pillows wouldn’t hurt, either, and they’d be way steadier once they’re up in the air. Someone, somewhere didn’t really think this whole thing through. It’s probably one of those time-honored Hogwarts traditions or something, a hazing stunt, maybe. Or maybe it’s just because as good as these professors might be at magic, probably none of them know anything at all about aerodynamics or wind currents. He thinks wistfully of Eton, where he could have graduated and then gone on to Cambridge or maybe MIT to study engineering and build planes. Then he remembers that only here at Hogwarts can he play Quidditch, and rallies quite spectacularly.

Tony spends the practical portion of the lesson subtly stealing as many feathers as he can from the pile of leftovers on Professor Hill’s desk and levitating them to sit on top of her head. She doesn’t notice at first, because Tony’s good at what he does and also feathers have almost the same weight as hair, really. When people start noticing and laughing, though, it becomes pretty obvious something’s going on.

Professor Hill is as cool as a cucumber the whole time she’s reaching slowly up to feel on top of her head, obviously a little worried about what she might find there, but also not willing to show it. When she feels the feathers, though, she grabs a great handful of them and throws them onto the ground. Tony could levitate them back up again, start the whole process over, but the look she’s giving him is one he’s quite familiar with. It means, ‘you’re in trouble and you’d better start groveling.’ Tony just smiles, instead.

“Detention Stark,” she says, very calmly, and man, Natasha should get with this lady and have her be the advisor for a club just for terrifying females. She could take lessons, even. And really, what is it with everyone in Tony’s life being cool and calm while he’s jumping out of his skin every other minute from all the energy under there. It’s like no one else even feels all the electric currents he carries around with him all the time. And anyway, if a detention could fix Tony’s need to cause trouble, prep school would have certainly squashed it out of him.

“Sorry, Professor,” he says, with his best expression of regret and sorrow. “It won’t happen again.”

Hill looks like she absolutely doesn’t believe him, and that’s the exact moment Tony knows she’s a smart woman, as well as a babe. “Make sure it doesn’t,” she says, anyway, then goes to help one of the slower kids with his flick and swish.

 

After class, Natasha waits until they get into the hall and away from anyone else before asking, very seriously, “What, actually, is wrong with you?”

“I’ve got tetanus,” he explains. “I stepped on a rusty nail last summer and no one ever took me to get a vaccination or anything, so now I’m pretty sure I’ve been infected ever since.”

Natasha doesn’t even blink, just says, “In that case, I hope you get lockjaw. It’ll be so much easier to ignore you if you can’t talk anymore.”

Actually, Tony hadn’t thought of that. He makes a mental note to get to the library sooner rather than later. The list of spells he needs to learn now includes a cure for infection, as well as a general, all-purpose cleaning spell. Still, that’s something to think about later. Right now, he smiles beatifically at Natasha, open-mouthed just to prove he still can and hopes that every class ends like this, with her insulting him; he’s starting to enjoy it.

 

Between Charms and their next class, which is Defense Against the Dark Arts, they’ve got a fifteen minute break. Natasha takes the opportunity to go the bathroom for a freaking hour, while Tony waits outside, leaning against the wall and winking at all the girls that come out. Girls, for some reason, always blush terribly whenever anyone even implies that they may have been in the bathroom, so the majority of the ones he makes eye contact with all get hilarious looks of embarrassment on their faces and walk away quickly. Of course, then Natasha finally comes back out, and Tony makes the mistake of winking at her, too, and she threatens take his eye out with her wand, so he puts an end to that game rather quickly.

On the way to DADA, which Natasha tells him very sternly is not cool to abbreviate to letters while speaking, Tony passes Bruce in the hall and has to make a side trip to accost him.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, cornering the other boy and throwing his arm around his shoulders. “Where have you been all my life? I’ve been looking for you all day!”

“I was in class,” Bruce says, earnestly, looking slightly uncomfortable at the way people are staring at them. “I don’t have class with Slytherin until Astronomy tomorrow night.”

Tony beams. “You looked it up!” he says, excitedly. “You cared enough about having class with me that you went and looked it up and even memorized it. I knew you liked me, buttercup, I just knew it!”

Bruce blushes. “It’s not like that,” he protests. “I just memorized my whole schedule.”

“Sure, sure,” Tony says, “I know the truth. You secretly like me. Admit it!”

“You’re okay,” Bruce says, ducking his head and smiling shyly. “But you’re also going to make me late for class.”

“Let’s skip,” Tony says, giving Bruce his best you-want-to-please-me smile. “Let’s just run away together, you and me, and we can make beautiful potions together.”

Bruce isn’t having it, though, and just shakes his head. “I’ve got to go,” he insists, and Tony reluctantly concedes, taking his arm back and letting his academic soul mate go free.

“At least come eat with us at dinner,” he says before Bruce can walk away. “We’re starting a new trend where we all say ‘screw segregation’ and sit together.”

“I saw you at lunch,” Bruce admits. “I just wasn’t sure you guys wanted me over there.”

“What?” Tony asks, genuinely shocked. “Bruce, why wouldn’t we want you there? You’re our friend, whether you want to be or not, and we like when you’re around. Promise me you’ll come over at dinner, and you can see for yourself.”

“Okay,” Bruce concedes, but he’s smiling a little, too, in that quiet way he has. “Okay, I will.”

“Promise,” Tony demands and fishes out his wand. “Promise or I’ll hex you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Bruce says, and he sounds confident enough about it that it makes Tony preen a little, because his friendship skills are boss. “But okay. I promise. I’ve really got to go now, but I’ll see you at dinner.”

Then he’s gone, merging back into the crowd of students swarming the hall and being swept away toward whatever class he has next. Tony does a fist pump to celebrate, then goes to catch up with Natasha.

 

Defense Against the Dark Arts should really be called ‘Defense Against Dangerous Creatures.’ Tony’s heard rumors that the older kids get to learn about curses and stuff, but based on Tony’s first class, this year they’re going to be mostly studying how not to get killed by various magical creatures. It’s an important skill, Tony supposes, not being killed, but he won’t say he’s not jealous of those older kids who are probably learning all kinds of dark things. Not that Tony has a particular interest in using curses on other people; for all that he’s a maker of mischief, he never wants to do worse than causing someone a headache. Still, it’s an interesting concept, curses.

The professor, Coulson, head of Gryffindor, is a very upright gent. He’s a very boring gent, too, in Tony’s opinion, but that could be a front. It has to be a front, because Tony refuses to believe there are people out there who are that dull. Coulson’s not dull in the way Professor Lee is, the way that makes kids fall asleep mid-lesson, but he’s dull in a different way, where nothing about him is unusual or exciting. He could probably blend in with any group, from the Wizengamot to an accounting firm, and no one would ever be able to pick him out of a line up.

It’s quite brilliant, actually, if it is a front and not just his personality. If Tony ever committed a crime, he’d be blamed for it immediately, and not just because he’s got a history of causing trouble. Tony’s notorious and proud of it. He’s worked hard for his reputation, and wouldn’t change it for anything. But even apart from that, he’s very conspicuous. His life as Howard and Maria’s son taught him a lot of things, but subtly wasn’t exactly one of them. Coulson, though, he’s got to be the master of being subtle.

“Do you think he was an Auror, before this?” Tony asks Natasha after class, during which Tony was both enthralled and bored to death by their professor.

“Yes,” Natasha answers at once, without even pausing to make fun of Tony or anything. “I absolutely do. Did you see the way he held his wand? He’s been trained.”

“Huh,” Tony says, thinking about that. Natasha notices things other people don’t, and if she says Coulson was trained, Tony believes her. He has to wonder, though, about what kind of past Natasha has, to be able to recognize that about someone. “You don’t work for the Ministry, do you?” he asks, because it’s better to be safe than sorry and Tony would rather know now if he needs to suspend any of his future vaguely illegal experiments until he can find someone new to be his bestie.

Natasha doesn’t answer, just smiles. 

“Oh,” Tony says, and decides not to pursue that line of questioning. For now, anyway. If, at some point in the future it becomes necessary for Tony do something actually illegal, well, he can just do it while she’s in the bathroom. That’ll give him plenty of time.

 

As promised, Bruce does show up to sit with them at dinner. Clint’s even there, too, so that makes all of them, all together again, as things should be. They’re all congregated at the Gryffindor table again, and Tony’s pleased to see several older Gryffindors have decided to make room for them by going off and sitting at the Ravenclaw table. Tony always knew he was a trendsetter, and this is just proof.

Tony’s got the best seat in the room, too, with Bruce on his one side and Steve on his other, with Natasha across from him. It’s dangerous, sitting across from Natasha, because if you insult her, accidently or on purpose, it doesn’t matter to her, she’ll kick you in the shins so hard you feel it for hours. Still, with Clint and Thor on either side of her, it’s a perfect set-up.

They talk about their days, mostly. Tony tells the stories of his triumphs in classes, the ones that earned him a detention already. It’s like a badge of honor, and he wears it with pride. Bruce, it seems, actually earned house points, instead of getting them taken away like any self-respecting student, by raising his hand and volunteering correct information. It sounds like a lot of work to Tony, just to get a few measly points, but whatever, to each his own. Steve, too, was a good student today, helping the teacher pass things out, and probably also helping little old ladies cross the street. (“There aren’t any streets for miles,” Steve points out when Tony says this, but Tony just shrugs. “Isn’t the boy scout motto, ‘Be Prepared?’” he asks, pointedly. “You probably had a road in your pocket or something.”) Clint and Thor, at least, don’t let Tony down. Clint got in trouble for throwing things in the classroom and got five points taken away. Thor only got a warning for talking too loud during class, but still, every little bit helps.

Altogether, dinner is a pretty great time, and Tony can’t wait to do it again tomorrow. Tonight, though, he and Steve have plans. 

“Come on,” Tony says once they’re all mostly finished eating, making hurrying motions at Steve to finish his pumpkin juice already. “Let’s go.”

“Excited about the big date, huh?” Clint asks, nudging Natasha gently. “Better take a picture, Nat. We can sell it to the Daily Prophet for their article about Tony Stark’s puppy love.”

Well, two can play at that game. “Woof,” he says, sitting pretty, and then scratches his head, because, seriously, fleas. It makes Steve laugh, at least, and that’s the key thing, really.

“I’m ready,” he says, and stands up. “Come on, Rover.” He grabs Tony’s arm and attempts to haul him away, but since he’s so small, it really only works because Tony’s cooperating. He sticks his tongue out at Clint, just for good measure, though, and then lets Steve guide him outside.

They talk as they’re walking along the grass, mostly about what it’s like to be Muggle-born, because Tony’s insanely curious. For all his daydreams, he’s mostly only ever been interested in a fairly specific section of Muggle life, namely engineering and aeronautics. By the time they get to the pitch, Tony’s learned all sorts of things he never knew, like about toaster ovens, for example, because seriously, how cool!

“Wow,” Steve breathes, once they’re close enough to see the goal posts. Just as Tony’d hoped, there is indeed a team down there already practicing. It’s the Hufflepuff team, but they don’t seem to mind a lowly set of first years watching them work.

“Let’s sit down,” Tony says, dragging Steve over to the stands. 

“How do they stay up?” Steve asks, enthralled, and unlike the pictures this afternoon, Tony has a legitimate answer for that, one he’s quite happy to give. Steve listens carefully, and even though Tony knows he doesn’t really understand, the very fact that he wants to know is enough for Tony. After that, Tony explains the rules of the game. Those, Steve seems to get a grasp on fairly quickly.

“It sounds like a lot of fun,” he says, once Tony’s gone over all the rules and tricks of the game. “Too bad first years can’t play.”

“Well,” Tony says, because he wants to make Steve smile at him again, “no one ever said that. First years can’t have their own brooms, but there’s nothing that says we can’t play a pick-up game with our friends using the school’s brooms. Maybe sometime we can all get together down here when no one’s practicing, and I can teach you to fly. Then you’ll blow them all away whenever you try out next year for the team.”

“Really?” Steve asks, and his smile is shy but his voice sounds so happy. “You’d do that?”

“Sure,” Tony says, easily. He’d do anything to get Steve to smile that way at him again, and flying, heck, he’d do that for free. “Anytime.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve says, and hugs him, briefly, before pulling away a bit awkwardly. 

They sit there together, watching the players and discussing technique until it starts to get dark, then they head back up to the castle. They walk close enough together that their shoulders brush every few steps, but neither of them mentions it. When they get inside to the hall, Steve gives him one last grateful smile, then turns to go up the marble staircase.

Tony takes the stairs down to the dungeons two at a time. Natasha’s already in bed by the time he gets there, or else she’s secretly out doing spying stuff in the dark for the Ministry, so Tony goes to bed, too. He lies there in the dark for a long time, thinking about his day. Pretty successful, if he does say so himself. He caused trouble in two different classes, and even got a detention in one of them. He managed to get all his friends together for dinner, too. But, of course, the best part of the whole day was the trip to the Quidditch pitch. Tony loves Quidditch, and he really likes Steve, too, in ways he can’t really explain, even to himself. It was a good day, and as Tony finally falls asleep, a feeling of satisfaction creeps over him. Everyday should be like this, he thinks, and then he’s asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts!AU in which Tony has always been a prodigy, and he's got the wands to prove it, but that doesn't mean he can't use a lesson in life skills.
> 
>  
> 
> Tony learns that not everything is fun and games at Hogwarts, but then he plays some quidditch and things start to look up again. Also, there's Bruce and who even knows what's going on with that guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not the update i meant to write. in fact, i only got onto my computer to check my email and somehow or other i looked up an hour later and this was written, so i figured i might as well post it

Tony finds out quickly that things are not all fun and games at Hogwarts. The detentions are terrible, for one thing. Tony spends the entire two hours he’s in detention on Wednesday night in the hallways, cleaning and polishing all the frames of what has to be every single picture in the place, while their inhabitants yap at him about missing a spot or not being thorough enough. No magic allowed, either, not that it matters, since Tony still hasn’t looked up that cleaning charm. Still, it’s the principle of the thing and Tony’s principles are super ticked off that he has to spend all night with a spray bottle in one hand and a rag in another, his wand very firmly hidden away up his sleeve, while Professor Hill just glares menacingly at him the whole time, like he’s going to go for her hair again. It’s a needless worry on her part, because Tony would never lower himself to do the same prank twice.

Natasha’s waiting up when he gets back to the common room, apparently done with her spying for the night and ready to gloat.

“How was detention?” she asks, innocently.

Tony just glowers at her and makes a mental note to remember how not fun the evening was, next time he gets the urge to pull a prank. Not that it’ll matter, when the time comes, because Tony has never been able to resist the pull of making a scene. It’s always been like that, as far back as he can remember, and if Howard’s open right palm hadn’t been able to knock it out of him, he doubts a little bit of scrubbing will, either, no matter how much the night sucked.

 

Even apart from detention, though, Tony finds other things that are equally as lame about Hogwarts. The homework, for example. It was easy enough those first few weeks, when they were just covering the very basics, teaching people how to channel their magic and stuff, but by the time October starts, the lessons start to get more difficult. Nothing Tony can’t handle, of course, but it does get to the point where they start covering spells he doesn’t know, and he’s got to actually do the work.

The thing about it is, Tony knows lots of spells, but that doesn’t mean he knows all the spells. He only knows what he’s needed to use in the past, useful things like stunning and summoning, things he could practice with his house elves. So while he knows some relatively advanced spell work, he’s never had to please anyone but himself with the things he decided to learn. This learning based on a curriculum thing is a total drag, especially when he’s too busy with his little experiments down in dungeon nine in the evenings to remember to do his classwork and has to fit it in at meals. That actually happens more than he’d like to admit.

“Scoot over, Tony,” Natasha says one day at lunch, shoving at him until he slides over on the bench so she can sit.

“Hey, shut up!” Tony says, making shushing motions with his free hand, the one not holding his transfiguration book. “I’m learning stuff!”

“You’re doing homework?” she asks skeptically.

“Yeah,” Tony says sulkily. “Tell me about it. I’m not happy about it, either.”

“I don’t understand,” Clint says, sitting down on Tony’s other side. “I thought you were Mr. Know-It-All.”

“Well, apparently not,” Tony admits, setting his book down. There’s no way he’s going to get anymore done with all this racket. “It was easy enough when we were still doing the super basic introductory stuff, but now that we’ve moved on, it’s a little tougher, okay?”

“So does this mean you’re going to stop causing trouble in class?” Steve asks hopefully from his seat across the table. Tony jerks around to look at him and wonders how long he’s been there. That’s another great thing about the kid, really; not only is he tiny and adorable, but he also knows when it’s totally not cool to interrupt a guy trying to work, unlike some people Tony could name.

“Pfft,” Tony says and winks, “You know me better than that.”

“Indeed we do,” Thor agrees, taking a seat, too and grabbing an apple from a bowl in the center of the table. He hands it over to Bruce, who’s settling in beside him and Bruce smiles at him, appreciatively. Then he adds, “And we most enjoy watching you scrub the floors while in detention.”

Tony scowls, because that had been the absolute worst detention, so far. He’d been on his hands and knees for three hours with a bucket and brush, scrubbing the great hall, and every single one of his friends had found a reason to walk right past him with muddy shoes.

“I’m glad you’re all here to laugh at my misery,” Tony tells them, darkly.

“Any time, buddy,” Clint says, and pats him on the arm.

With friends like these, Tony thinks, who needs enemies. Then he laughs, despite himself, because who is he kidding? He loves these guys. They’re what make all the detentions worth it. Well, them and also the thrill he gets from being bad, but it’s mostly them. That’s the best part about this whole place, really, because for the first time in his life, Tony has friends, and he’d put up with an awful lot of cleaning to be able to keep them.

 

On the other side of the spectrum, one of the pretty great things about Hogwarts is the quidditch. The season hasn’t started quite yet, but true to his word, Tony’s been teaching Steve to fly every couple of evenings. Steve’s a natural, really, and Tony thinks that with his small size, he’s probably a fantastic seeker. They don’t have a snitch to play with, but Tony thinks that maybe if he works at it for a while, he’ll be able to enchant a golf ball or something to fly around for Steve to practice with. 

Tony himself is a natural born keeper. That’s the position he always played on his team in prep school, and since quaffles don’t need any sort of special enchantments, Tony’s got ideas about finding a basketball somewhere or something and having Steve try to score, once he gets good enough. 

In fact, there’s no reason they can’t pull together a team, between the six of them. With Steve as seeker and Tony as keeper, that’s two positions down. Thor’s probably a beast with a beater’s bat, and Natasha and Clint both have spectacular aim, so they could be the chasers. That just leaves Bruce, who would probably make a decent chaser, as well, if Tony managed to get him up on a broom. For some reason, Bruce tends to avoid high stress situations, likes to keep his head down, which makes Tony honestly wonder what the kid is doing with a friend like him. But Tony can be pretty convincing when he needs to be, so if he gets Bruce, too, that’s very nearly a team. One more player and they’d be ready for action.

Steve seems to be thinking along the same lines.

“You know,” he says, one night when he and Tony are grabbing the brooms out of the little shed by the pitch, “This is a lot more fun than I thought it would be. I think maybe I’d like to actually play, sometime.”

“You’d be good at it,” Tony tells him, and it pains him to give a straight compliment like that, no sarcasm or wit, but it’s true and Steve deserves to hear it.

“Thanks,” Steve says, blushing slightly. “You’re pretty good, too.”

There’s an awkward moment, then, where they both stare at each other for a minute too long, then Tony grabs a broom and says, “Race you to the pitch!”

Tony wins the race, of course, because he has a head start and also longer legs, but Steve puts up a good fight, despite the fact that he’s at least four inches shorter than the broom he’s carrying over his shoulder. Tony waits for him to catch up, then they both mount and take off.

Flying is like nothing else Tony’s ever experienced. Nothing compares, really, not even when his experiments work out. The only thing even remotely close is a memory Tony cherishes above all others, the one where Howard looked at him and said, “Good job, son.” Of course, since he’s not entirely sure he didn’t make that memory up, that’s not a very good example, either. Not that he definitely imagined it, but it either happened when he was very little or it never happened at all and Tony just wanted it so bad that he tricked himself into thinking it did. Sometimes even Tony can’t figure out his brain, and that, that’s so not good.

But, anyway, flying. Flying is good and safe and free. It’s all those things Tony wants to keep forever, and now that Steve’s here, it’s even better. Together they make a few laps around the goal posts on either end, then land again so Tony can dig out the golf balls he has in his bag.

“My dad owns a broom factory, you know,” he tells Steve, and for the life of him he can’t figure out why he didn’t bring it up sooner, except that maybe he gets a little bit distracted every time he sees Steve all windswept and happy-looking. He likes flying and he likes Steve, and when they both come together, it kinda messes with his brain or something. “Next year, once we’re allowed brooms, I could maybe have some sent over.”

And by maybe, he totally means definitely. They won’t be just any brooms, either, but the best brooms he can design over the summer holidays. He’ll spend every day on it, if he has to, until he can come up with a broom that deserves the talent Steve’s got all welled up inside him. Tony knows a lot about brooms, since he spent his childhood surrounded by them, but he’s never really designed one before. It’ll be fun and probably won’t even end in explosions. Or, if it does end in explosions, that’s fine, too, since Tony kinda likes those anyway.

“Wow,” Steve says, and Tony can tell by the way he says it that he never expected to be able to afford his own broom. He’s polite, though, so Tony totally expects the way he turns it down. “That’s awful nice of you, Tony, but it’s too much. We could never pay you back.”

Tony scoffs, because who even really cares about money? Not him, that’s for sure. In Tony’s world, galleons basically grow on trees, and if he wants to spend a few of them on his friends, that’s pretty alright with him. It might be less alright with his father, but what Howard doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“I want to,” Tony insists, and Steve must see he really, really means it, because he just smiles and says, “Thanks,” shyly. Tony likes all of Steve’s expressions, but shy is one of his top favorites.

“Come on,” Tony says, and smiles back, because for some reason he’s super happy right now. “Let’s go back up.”

 

They barely make it inside in time for dinner. Everyone’s already sitting down, tonight at the Hufflepuff table.

“Ick,” Tony says as he and Steve collapse on the bench next to Natasha, who wrinkles her nose at how sweaty they are. “Why are we sitting here with all these lame ‘Puffs?”

“Are you doubting my house spirit?” Clint asks with his mouth all full of Sheppard’s Pie. 

“Swallow your food before you choke,” Natasha tells him, and they all know she really means ‘before I choke you.’ She’s a scary, scary girl and she’s just perfect for the quidditch team Tony’s forming.

“You seem like you could handle a quaffle,” he tells her, speculatively. “I mean, you do kinda have man hands.” It’s not really true, since Natasha’s hands are very lovely and also slightly delicate, but what can he say? He likes to wind people up.

“Not all of us can be dainty and feminine likes you, Tony,” Natasha tells him, but Tony ignores the dig in favor of trying to convince his friends to come play with him. It’s not exactly a hard sell, since his friends are all pretty adventurous, in their own ways. Plus, Natasha’s got a sixth sense about when Tony’s little plans are going to get them all into horrible trouble and when they’re just going to slightly inconvenience her, so once he gets her to agree, everyone else falls in, as well.

Tony goes through the line-up with them, Thor as a beater, Natasha and Clint as chasers, Steve as the seeker, Tony as the keeper and Bruce-

“Wait a minute, guys,” Tony says, interrupting his own monologue. “Where’s Bruce?”

“He is ill, my friend,” Thor tells him at the same time Natasha asks incredulously, “You’re just now realizing he’s not here?”

Tony just shrugs at her. So he’s a little self-centered, so what? Since when was that ever a bad thing?

“Is he okay?” he asks, because seriously, this is becoming some sort of pattern. “Wasn’t he just sick a few weeks ago?”

Thor nods solemnly. “He was, indeed.”

“Huh,” Tony says, and thinks back on it. About a month ago, just a few weeks into the school year, Bruce was sick for like three days, and when he came back he looked like he’d been on the wrong end of a mugging.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Steve says, so confidently that Tony can’t help but believe him. “I bet he’ll be back soon, and then we can all make sure he gets lots of soup and rest while he’s still recovering.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, vaguely. “Good idea.” In his head, though, he’s still thinking, how odd.

 

When Bruce does come back from the hospital wing or wherever he’d been, he looks terrible, worse even than the last time he was sick. He’s limping slightly and has cuts and bruises all down his arms. He also shies away whenever anyone goes to touch him.

Hmm, Tony thinks. Bizarre. It’s fishy and there’s no mistake, and Tony’s never been one to let a mystery go to waste. He goes to comfort Bruce anyway, distract him with a new potion he’s been reading about. That night, though, he breaks out his detective gear and thinks, game on. There’s a mystery about, and Tony Stark, Esq., is on the job.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts!AU in which Tony has always been a prodigy, and he's got the wands to prove it, but that doesn't mean he can't use a lesson in life skills.
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> Tony does research. And also some more research after that. Then he eats pie.

The mystery of Bruce’s illness takes up most of Tony’s spare time all through October. He spends every free minute he gets, apart from Quidditch practices with his new team, in the library looking up magical illnesses. He also finally looks up a cleaning spell, which turns out to be “Scourgify, and really, Tony should have known that’s what it would be. Typical. Except, then he tries it on himself one day after a very filthy Quidditch practice and is spitting out soap for fifteen minutes, and that’s when he decides he’s going to stick to hand-cleaning for a while.

All Tony’s friends seem mildly bemused about his new-found love of medical books. They all, at one point or another, accompany him to the library and do homework or something while he’s researching. They’re pretty used to him getting on random research kicks to be too invested in this new one. Only Steve seems to be really worried about it.

“You’re not planning on experimenting on yourself, are you?” he asks hesitantly one day, looking up from his Astronomy essay on Lupus, the wolf constellation. “Because I know you like to keep things interesting, but I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

Tony sighs and closes Common Magical Maladies with a thump. “No,” he says, too bummed out to have Steve on by making up a bunch of experiments he’s going to try on himself. “I’m just browsing.” It’s the truth, too; he’s got no freaking idea what type of random disease Bruce might have, so he’s been forced to skim every page in every book on magical diseases he can get his hands on. He’s starting to think it’s hopeless, though. Oh, he can say very firmly what disease Bruce doesn’t have. He doesn’t have Dragon Pox and he doesn’t have Spattergroit, and he doesn’t have Scrofungulus. In fact, he doesn’t have any known disease, apparently, or at least not one Tony can find. Maybe he’s just looking in the wrong place, but for the life of him he can’t find a disease that causes cuts and bruising every few weeks.

“Can you look over my essay, then, if you’re not too busy?” Steve asks and Tony agrees. He doesn’t enjoy proof-reading essays, exactly, and he’s not the best candidate for the job, either, what with his short attention span, but Steve likes him to do it and Tony likes Steve, so he reaches out to take the roll of parchment.

“Ugh,” he says after reading the first few lines. It’s a good essay, but the subject matter leaves a lot to be desired in Tony’s opinion. “Wolves. I hate wolves. One almost bit me once, you know.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, sounding curious. “In the wild?”

“Nah,” Tony says. “In the zoo. I ran away there when I was nine. The house elves were really cross.”

“Weren’t they fenced in?” 

“Oh yeah,” Tony says, waving his hand dismissively. “I climbed up over the fence and into the enclosure. They probably would have mauled me, but the zookeeper pulled me out just in time.”

“Tony!” Steve says, shocked. “What were you thinking? You could have been killed.”

“I know,” Tony says, as long-sufferingly as he can manage. “And I don’t think I didn’t hear about it from everyone and their mother for days and days. Ivy was so mad I thought steam was going to start coming out her ears.”

“Who’s Ivy?” Steve asks, sidetracked for now and Tony does a discreet little fist pump for making that happen and getting to skip the lecture.

“One of the house elves who raised me,” he explains. “We have lots, but the ones who took care of me are Ivy and Freck. They’re pretty awesome, but Ivy gets a little touchy about me doing stuff she thinks is dangerous. I’ve got a picture of them upstairs, if you wanna see later.”

“I’d like that,” Steve says. “I’ve never seen a house elf before.”

That pronouncement certainly catches Tony’s attention. “You’ve never seen a house elf?” he asks incredulously. He guesses it should be pretty obvious, since Steve’s muggle-born and everything, but it still raises questions Tony’s never even considered before about the muggle lifestyle. “Who raised you, then? Who cleaned and cooked and did all those other boring house-keeping things?”

“My mom,” Steve says simply, shrugging. 

“Oh,” Tony says, considering this. “Must take a lot longer without magic, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “I tried to help her when I could, but she was always working, even on her days off from her job at the hospital.” He looks kind of sad about it, and Tony can’t have that, so he reaches out and touches Steve’s arm.

“Hey,” he says. “Once you’re an adult wizard, you can totally do all the work for her with magic.”  
Steve smiles, looking cheered. “I can, can’t I?”

Tony goes back to the essay then, all about the stupid wolf constellation, but he keeps that smile in his head the whole time. He doesn’t know what the deal is, but Steve’s smile always makes Tony want to smile himself. He doesn’t, usually, because he’s got a reputation to think about, but here and now, he lets himself grin goofily. It’s only Steve, after all, and he won’t tell.

 

Eventually, Tony gives up on the library and instead starts hanging around the hospital wing, bugging Madam van Dyne. He can’t just come out and ask what’s wrong with Bruce, because he knows she’ll refuse to tell him, even if he’s one of Bruce’s best friends. Instead, he just asks questions here and there, about what diseases have been going around and what symptoms they cause. Through this method, he learns an awful lot about head colds, more than he ever wanted to know about Mono, and the exact painful process of regrowing bones, none of which helps him in the slightest. 

He does get slightly distracted from his mission for a while mid-October when one of his potion experiments goes wrong, wrong, so very wrong and he ends up with cat whiskers for three whole days, a situation which amuses Clint to no end but itches terribly. Once Madam van Dyne finally figures out how to reverse them, though, Tony’s back on the case. Except, the case seems to be going nowhere fast. By the time Halloween rolls around, Tony’s very nearly about to give up and just ask Bruce what the deal is.

The Halloween feast, at least, is a pleasant distraction from Tony’s woes. If there’s one food Tony really loves in this world, it’s pumpkin pie. The decorations in the Great Hall are sweet, too, the floating jack lanterns carved in spooky designs and real bats hanging from the ceiling.

“Wow,” Clint says as they walk into the hall. “They went all out on this place. Look, they even got the moon involved.”

“They did not make the moon full just for the occasion, Clint,” Natasha says, making a face like she’s not sure why she hangs out with idiots. “It happened naturally. Just like last month, and the month before that.”

“It still does look very impressive,” Thor agrees, smiling loyally at Clint. “Dear Bruce will be sorry to have missed such a display.”

“I can’t believe he’s sick on Halloween,” Tony complains, upset on his pal’s behalf. “That’s so not fair. He’s gonna miss all the pie. I’ll just have to eat his slices for him.”

“Maybe you should just take them to him in the hospital wing,” Steve says, looking worried. “Don’t you remember last time he was sick and you ate his share of the peppermint humbugs for him? You puked for an hour afterward.”

“Bruce was really in the mood for peppermint humbugs that day,” Tony says defensively. “It’s not my fault he wanted me to eat the whole bowl.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Steve tells him, but Tony just shrugs.

“How about this,” he compromises, wondering when Steve became the boss of him. “I’ll eat one of his slices and take the other one to him in the hospital wing.”

It’s a good deal in more ways than one, because hopefully if he brings food Madam van Dyne will let him in to see Bruce and he can get a good look at him. If that doesn’t solve the mystery, Tony’s convinced, nothing will. 

Steve nods approvingly, and Tony grins. 

“Let us eat at the mighty Gryffindor table on this most joyous occasion,” Thor says from behind them and they make their way over to that end of the hall. Tony gets stuck sitting between Clint and Natasha, which means danger from both sides, but he ignores them and concentrates on the feast. He bides his time through the main course, waiting and waiting for the desert. Finally, the pie appears and Tony’s so happy he nearly face plants into a whole pie. He would do it, too, except then Natasha yanks on his hair to hold him back and threatens him until he lets her get a piece first. Then it’s Tony’s turn and this, this right here makes the whole night worth it, even if he doesn’t get to see Bruce later. He does manage to save a slice for his friend, but only barely.

After the feast, Tony puts Bruce’s slice of pie on a clean plate and carries it very carefully up to the hospital wing. He nearly changes his mind three times on the way and just eats the thing himself, but he thinks Steve might have been right about it being a bad idea, plus, he really does want to see Bruce. Not just to solve the mystery, either, but because Bruce has been gone for over a day and Tony kinda misses him.

When he gets to the hospital wing, though, Bruce isn’t anywhere in sight. Neither is Madam van Dyne, even when Tony peaks through the windows into her office. 

“Hello?” he says loudly, just in case they’ve all been turned invisible or something and are actually in the room. No one answers, so Tony just shrugs and wanders over to one of the beds to sit down and think. He sets his pie down on the bed beside him, and a good thing, too, because the voice that speaks suddenly scares the bejesus out of him and he probably would have dropped the plate. Tony can’t have that kind of thing on his conscience.

“All alone, ickle firsty?

“Gah!” Tony yells, hopping up and reaches for his pie, torn between protecting it and using it as a weapon. He looks up and sees Peeves floating upside down near the ceiling. “Peeves! What are you doing here? Don’t you have water balloons to throw at professors or something?”

“Not just now,” Peeves says with an evil little smile. “Very quiet in here all day, no one around for company, so old Peevesie’s been writing a song. Did you want to hear it?”

“Uh, no that’s okay,” Tony says quickly. He’s been on the receiving end of Peeve’s little songs before and they all end in tears and destruction. He starts planning a quick escape, before the stupid poltergeist can cause him more pain and humiliation, but then something Peeves just said strikes him.

“Wait,” he says. “No one’s been in here all day? No students or anything?”

“Not since yesterday,” Peeves says, beginning to turn slow somersaults in the air. “It’s just been me and the missus, ever since she took that little mouse out to his cage after supper.”

Mouse? That has to be Bruce, the time frame matches up too perfectly to when Bruce disappeared to be anyone else. And Bruce is the mousiest kid Tony knows; even Peeves can see it. “You saw them?” he asks eagerly. “Where did they go?”

“I saw them, I did. Peeves never misses a thing, no he don’t. Outside, they went, to the big tree with the fists. Down the hole they scurried, right at the roots.”

“A hole?” Tony asks skeptically. “But how? The Whomping Willow whomps anything that gets too close.” This Tony knows from painful experience, one Natasha delights in reliving for all their friends whenever a conversation gets too dull.

“Ah ah ah,” Peves says, clicking his heels together and making the bells on each foot jingle. “Not to the missus it doesn’t. Very smart she is, knows the secret.”

“Which is…” Tony prompts.

Peeves leans in, very close to Tony’s face and whispers, “The knot on the base of the tree. Just has to be pressed, so it does. Can’t miss it, no sir, not once you know it’s there.” Then he winks and zooms off.

“The plot thickens,” Tony says to himself and makes for the door to go investigate. He knows he shouldn’t take advice from Peeves, of all people, since it always leads to trouble, but it’s the only lead he’s got and he’s going to take it or die trying. Of course, then he realizes he left his pie and has to go back for it, because hardworking detectives deserve a snack here and there. 

By the time he gets outside, it’s completely dark and there’s no pie to speak of. Just enough light is coming from the full moon that Tony can make his way over to the Whomping Willow without tripping over anything or falling on his face. When he gets there, though, he stops just outside the range of the tree’s flailing branches. Slowly, carefully, he circles the tree, squinting in the dim light through the flailing arms to the base of the tree, trying to find a knot.

At last, he spots it and also a convenient stick lying at his feet, too short to reach with just his hands but a piece of cake to levitate. It takes a couple of tries to worm the stick through the moving branches without it getting smacked down, but eventually, he has the stick right up next to the knot. He presses it and to his amazement, the tree freezes.

“Yes!” Tony says and does a happy little dance. Peeves was right, after all. 

Quickly, before the tree can change its mind and attack him, Tony darts forward to the spot just below the knot that opens up into the ground. It’s a hole, plenty big for Tony, though it might be kind of a tight squeeze for a grown-up. At the bottom is a tunnel. Anything could be at the end. This could all be some elaborate prank of Peeves’s to get him into trouble. Tony hasn’t come this far just to wuss out, though. The tunnel only leads one direction and that’s the way he starts to run.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t gone more than two minutes into the darkness before he hears the noise he fears above all others, the noise he’s been unable to get out of his mind for two years now, ever since his disastrous encounter in the zoo. He’d recognize it anywhere. It’s the growl of a wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor Tony always ends up on the wrong end of my cliffhangers :/


End file.
